The Taming of The Snake
by MioneAttack
Summary: Harry Potter has been promoted to Head Auror, and is on top of the world. Draco Malfoy has just about hit rock bottom, and is willing to do almost anything to get by, well at least according to the rumors. What happens when Harry agrees to a bet that he can make Draco Malfoy the perfect little slave of a secretary? M/M Warnings: Rated M for smut, language and prostitution etc...
1. The Bet

Disclaimer- We solemnly swear that we are making absolutely zero dollars for the writing of this fanfic. It is merely for our amusement and the amusement of possible readers.

**A/N-** **This fic is a collaboration between the two of us, which we have decided to share with all of you. We hope that you enjoy the following story as much as we enjoy writing it. Thanks!  
**

**-nocturne and spooky  
**

**The Taming of the Snake  
**

**Chapter One- The Bet  
**

'_Harry J. Potter_, Head Auror,' The words declared, prominently displayed across the frosted glass door that gave way into the young wizard's office. Harry had insisted upon modesty, but his definition of the word seemed clearly to be at odds with that of Shacklebolt's. The young wizard, along with everyone else, knew that he had been a shoo-in for the position and everyone was abuzz about the fact. However what he disliked were the rumors that he hadn't truly earned his position. Harry didn't like to hang on the past, but he had to admit that Ron's opinion on the matter was correct.

"Mate, if destroying the most terrifying Wizard of this century isn't good enough for them, nothing will be. I say fuck 'em, you earned it. Besides, who was it that brought in Augustus Burdock single handed? They'd been tailing him for a decade before we came in with no luck. They can go wank on that." Granted he had said that with a half empty pint in his hand, and two empty ones right beside him, but drunk words were sober thoughts and he knew exactly what he was talking about.

Bright green eyes scanned over his new office. Surely it was bigger than it had been for anyone else, and he couldn't deny that he was being spoiled. He disliked it, honestly. Everything should have just been left as it were. No wonder half the wizarding world had had a fit over it. He ran his hand over the clean marble counter, not one speck of dust was left upon his fingers and he was sure it had been charmed. His desk was made of the smoothest, most clear glass he'd ever seen. It was truly so unnecessary. Not one scrap of paper littered the beautiful desk, an issue that would soon be rectified, much to Hermione's horror.

He worked his way around the smooth glass until he was seated, quite comfortably in his new leather seat. It was probably the most comfortable chair he had ever placed his bum upon in his entire life. Yes, Harry hated all the extra attention, and being treated like some sort of God, but he could not deny that being Harry Potter did come with some very enjoyable perks. Harry let out a loud sigh, lacing his fingers behind his head and leaning back into his palms. Gracefully he swept his ankles up unto the desk and pressed all of his weight into the back of the chair.

_Thump, thump, thump!_

Suddenly three loud knocks came upon the door, in succession, shocking his system and sending him flying backwards onto the floor with an even louder thump. A piercing pain radiated up his spine like a bolt of electricity and he winced, clenching his teeth.

"Morning Princess!" Came Ron's jolly greeting as he worked his way around the door to the office. "Blimey..." he said, his eyes as wide as a house elf's as he looked around the room, then down to Harry. "What you doing on the floor?"

Harry raised one brow, stroking his lower back and pulling himself and the chair from their pile upon the floor. "Gee, I wonder..." He answered.

"It's bigger than our living room at the Burrow! You really are a princess," he continued, ignoring Harry's obvious sarcasm, that famous Ronald Weasley crooked smile upon his face. "This can't be fair."

The newly appointed head auror didn't even bother to correct Ron on his new nickname, he was far too used to it by now, arguing against it only made it worse. "I agree. I'm considering telling Shacklebolt to change it." He said, sitting back down and making a note to remember to change everything but the chair. "No. I'll do it myself. I'm not some spoilt brat who can't even wave his wand on his own to make a few alterations."

"Could have fooled me." Ronald remarked in jest, earning a glare from his best friend. "And leave it, mate. Fuck with it and people will think you're ungrateful."

"Someone will have something to say no matter what, won't they?" He asked, crossing his arms, but no reply came. Ron's eyes were too busy being fixed upon his left, causing Harry to shift his vision to the right. He hadn't even realized it before, but there was an arch along the far wall, leading into a room, smaller than his, fully stocked with cabinets and a desk.

"You've even got a private secretary?"

Harry shrugged, "Beats me..." honestly he hadn't even seen the room there when he came in, he was too in awe and amazed at the whole situation.

"So she hasn't been hired yet?" Ron said walking over to the room and peeking in.

"Who says it's going to be a she?"

"Are you a man, or are you a man? Because I'm not so sure right now. I'm sure they'll let you choose her. Loads of women would kill for this! Just pick the one with the best credentials and-"

"You mean the one with the highest skirt and lowest collar?" He wasn't exactly in the mood for Ron's sexist banter, nor being arrested for sexual harassment. He wasn't touching that subject. No doubt any woman applying for the job either wanted to bed him, marry him, or create some sort of scandal. He was fine without any of that. But once again, his sarcasm was lost upon his friend.

"Exactly! Now you're getting it!"

Harry chuckled at the pure silliness of the conversation. "And have your little sister end my life. No thank you." He adjusted himself within his seat, drawing Ron's attention once again. "I'm still trying to figure out what the point of this visit is, Ron," he said, his voice not exactly oozing impatience, but still curious nonetheless.

"Oh, right. Drinks with the boys, tomorrow night, usual time, usual place. Don't be late." He replied, making his way toward the exit.

"Alright," Harry answered, "Oh, and from now on, I'm your boss, remember that," he said with a chuckle.

"Haven't you always been?" Was the last thing Ron said, as he shut the door behind him, leaving Harry alone once again, to revel in his tiny kingdom.

* * *

They'd been doing this for ages now, meeting this way. It was nice, reminiscing about days gone by. The good and the bad, but mostly the good. These weren't occasions to be glum, they'd spent far too much time in their later school years being glum for that. Harry had learned long ago that people just needed to accept the hand that they'd been dealt, no matter how bad it may be. And he couldn't have had better friends, they were the type who knew how to have fun in the face of adversity. The sort that knew not how to forget, but how to heal. He'd been doing a lot of that over the years. The tradition went as follows, they'd round up all the blokes and meet each other up in a tiny dingy little muggle pub in the middle of town and well, just get plastered off their arses. It wasn't very far from Harry's flat, which was a very good thing. Drunk apparition was the very definition of the phrase not pretty.

He'd dressed very casually, a red v-neck and blue jeans. It wasn't like the guys were going to care very much what he wore. His hair was as shaggy as ever, that never changed, nor could it, no matter how hard he or Hermione had tried. Honestly, it was nice to be able to take it easy, the transition had been so bothersome, all of the photos, all of the interviews, all of the formalities, and he still wasn't done yet.

Harry was convinced he'd never be done.

"I swear, it's probably bigger than Shacklebolt's office!" Ron continued to go on about Harry's office, his language finally beginning to slur.

"I highly doubt it..." Harry replied rolling his eyes, as the rest of his mates howled with laughter.

"Oh, be a good sport Harry..."

"...we can't have the Ministry's princess all frowny faced, right after his big promotion," By now Harry had grown quite used to Fred beginning a sentence and George somehow magically ending it, but he couldn't help but wonder if they'd developed some sort of strange mind reading connection. As long as he'd been in the wizarding world, he'd never looked that well into twins. He didn't think he wanted to. The Weasleys freaked him out enough.

"I ought to hex you all into the year 500, is what I ought to do," he replied with a chuckle.

Neville sat forward, finally joining the conversation, after having been quiet the whole night. "Speaking of hexes, have they sold the Malfoy residence yet?"

It was common knowledge that the Malfoy's had lost everything after the war. With Lucius Malfoy placed in Azkaban and a block on all of their accounts, his wife and son could do nothing else but sell all that they had. Of course everything had to be tested first, checked thoroughly for hexes and the like. Dark artifacts became the property of the Ministry. However, just removing all of the dark magic texts and items wasn't enough. The house which had existed for longer than any of them could imagine under the Malfoy name was no doubt full of many tricks, charms, hexes, spells and trap doors, that could mean death to any potential buyers. There was also a rumor that if anyone who wasn't of pure Malfoy decent attempted to own or live within the Malfoy Manor's walls, would wither away and die a quite slow and painful death.

Harry would be lying if he said it didn't somewhat break his heart to see how everything turned out, but it was the least he could compromise for the sake of the family that had pretty much been his arch enemies throughout most of the war. He couldn't save Lucius Malfoy from the punishment for his crimes and he honestly hadn't wanted to. It didn't take long for the Wizengamot to decide upon his sentencing: Death by way of the Dementor's kiss. It was a private execution, left open only to his wife, and their lawyers, The Minister of Magic and the savior of the Wizarding World himself.

It was horrific, witnessing the Dementor's kiss. He thought that it had been terrible when he saw himself and Sirius in the same situation, but nothing, nothing came close to seeing it out to completion. It was cruel, but far from cruel and unusual. After all, Lucius Malfoy had been a cruel man.

"No, no..." Harry finally replied, after having been lost within his own thoughts. "They want me to look into it a bit more, you know, just to make sure. I'm going to bring Hermione with me, though. If she can't find it, there isn't anything there."

Dean smirked and took a long swig of Firewhiskey. "They got it rough, the Malfoy's... you sort of have to feel sorry for them."

"I don't," Ron chimed in. "Not one bit, got what they deserved, they did. Bet they thought they'd be on easy street right now. Ruling with an iron fist. Now two thirds of them are dead and the other one third is-"

"Sucking cock for sickles!" Dean exclaimed letting out a hearty laugh, causing everyone to look at him with curious smiles upon their faces. They all laughed in unison, just at the mere prospect. "No. I am serious." He continued, "Do you remember Josephine?"

"How could I not?" Ron replied. Josephine was apparently Dean's newest conquest, and she was actually very beautiful. Harry was happy that Ron had someone to talk women with at least. It wasn't like he could fill this space, what would they talk about? Ginny? That...that just wasn't okay.

"Well, we were getting real hot and heavy the other night. She's a fox! I swear she's gonna be the death of me," he said before clearing his throat, "but anyway, getting to the point..." By this time all the men were very enthralled with his tale. Dean had a way of doing that. "...So we slide into an alley behind the bar to get a bit of privacy to find the place is already engaged. Let me tell you. A gay couple. One on his knees, mouth full of cock..." He slowed down a giant grin upon his face as everyone furrowed their brows in confusion. The word 'so,' written upon each of their faces.

"It was Malfoy!'" He finally continued, earning a sucking of teeth from all of them. Harry had known where he was getting at from the beginning, and he didn't understand how the rest of them didn't. But he knew that like he, they all had the very big suspicion that Dean was just pulling their leg. He wasn't exactly famous for telling the truth and what with the rumors about Malfoy, he probably thought he'd get a kick out of telling a tall tale.

"That would never happen!" Seamus finally spoke.

"I'd know that ferret faced git anywhere. It was him, and you know what they've been saying about him. Can't get a job, has no money. Dad an empty shell, mum in the ground. My cousin Harold says he knows a bloke, who knows a bloke who paid to have a night with the infamous pure blood prince."

"Well if it was him, I think we've solved Harry's little secretary problem."

"Harry, you've got a secretary?"

"No. Not yet, but he will." Ron said with a chuckle. "I dare you, find Malfoy, hire him. You could make his life a living hell!"

"As if it wasn't already," The twins exclaimed in unison.

"I don't even know if I'm going to hire anyone at all. Besides, like Malfoy would accept a job offer from me."

"If he's sucking cock-"

"Look, I just think you won't do it, because you know you couldn't make him."

"Five hundred galleons says you can't make him the perfect little slave." Fred chimed in, just in time.

"That would be so silly, what would be the point?"

"Pure entertainment. Imagine the revenge."

"I think I've had enough of revenge."

"Well if you don't think you can do it." Harry gazed at Neville in shock. When did he become such a traitor?

Harry laughed at their gall. Did it really matter that much? Five hundred galleons just to play a child's game? He didn't get what their issue with Malfoy was. Hadn't he been through enough? As far as Harry was concerned, Malfoy was far enough on the bottom rung and he had no desire to push him farther. It wasn't exactly like he cared and that was just the point, he didn't. Malfoy could stay where he was, Harry had no desire to look for him. But the boys, they wouldn't shut up about it unless he just gave in.

"Fine. I'll look for him. Does that make you all happy, you sick sadistic freaks?"

"Actually yes!" They all replied at once.

It was easy to answer them, but not quite as easy to fulfill their task. But it wasn't as if Harry actually planned to. It would be easy to take back drunken words, and he doubted they were even being serious. On the magical off chance they were, it wouldn't have been difficult to convince them that he couldn't possibly hire someone who'd never applied. In fact it was the truth. The whole thing was completely immoral and out of bounds. And Malfoy would never apply for such a position. No matter how hard his life was. No matter how many jobs were turning him down. Even if he was selling his body just to make ends meet, there was no possible way he'd ever agree to be Harry Potter's private secretary, right?

And once he proved that, the bet would be completely null and void...

* * *

_Thanks again for reading! We really hope you enjoyed. Next chapter coming up soon.  
_


	2. Rock Bottom

Disclaimer- We solemnly swear that we are making absolutely zero dollars for the writing of this fanfic. It is merely for our amusement and the amusement of possible readers.

**A/N-** **Enjoy!**

**-nocturne and spooky  
**

**The Taming of the Snake  
**

**Chapter Two- Rock Bottom**

He still remembered when it happened. The day dear Narcissa quit on life. His mother had always been a strong woman, but he guessed she wasn't strong enough to deal with the loss of his father. Sometimes Draco wondered how it felt, how did it feel to die under the kiss of a Dementor? What did his father feel as his joyous memories and feelings were sucked clean out of his helpless body? All the way down to his soul... until there was nothing left. That sure sounded better than dealing with poverty. His mother just couldn't handle the repercussions of their war crimes and arsenic was her way out. Her way of leaving everything behind because she was too fucking weak to deal with the troubles that they were forced to face after Lucius' death. Suicide - no, she had just been sick and passed away. Draco had too much pride to admit that his mother had taken her own life under the pressures of sadness and despair. How could she abandon him like that? Leave him behind with the whole world on his fucking shoulders? It was selfish, it was cruel... and Draco had been nothing but miserable since that day. At least he still had his pride... right?

Pride could only get you so far...

It all happened so fast. He could barely even remember how - and lately, he tried not to. It wasn't like thinking about it was going to fix anything anyway. The furniture was the first to go. Valuable items that pulled in lots of money. Things that meant everything to him, and things that he had forgotten about. From his first pair of shoes, to the teddy bear that he had thrown in the closet to collect dust, so many years ago. They were all sold out to auctioneers. Soulless auctioneers, without a single care about Draco's misery. But then again, since when did Draco give a fuck about other's feelings? Karma had finally returned to bite him in the butt.

An empty mansion was left behind after the auction. An empty mansion in which he only got to live in for three whole days after that. Three days, and it was gone just like the rest of the things in his fucking life. And what about his money? Well, he could forget about ever getting his hands on that. Might as well pretend it never existed, and we could blame the war crimes for that. The fortune was locked up tight, frozen, and there was no way he could get it now. The Malfoy's. No one would have thought things would ever end up this way for the Malfoy's...

Draco Lucius Malfoy; the spoiled, rich, pure-blooded brat. Son of a death eater. The one who always thought himself to be above everyone and everything. Age twenty-two, and currently on his knees at the back of a seedy, obscure bar, with a mouthful of cock.

Desperate times call for desperate measures...

And it wasn't like he did it all the time, he just really needed the money at the moment. It was this, or washing dishes for the drinks he didn't pay. The blonde didn't even know who this guy was, or what he called himself - but he had established that those things didn't truly matter. All that mattered was the money he was going to get paid for his sexual favor, and that the man was somewhat attractive at least. That always made the situation a little less worse.

A single tear escaped from the corner of his left eye, trickling down his red-flushed cheek, as he shut his eyes tight, taking in the man's length until it had all disappeared into his mouth and down his throat. A small whimper escaped him, followed by a groan that vibrated against the other man's cock, causing him to tilt his head back, against the cold, brick wall behind him, and moan out in pleasure. Draco kept his mouth where it was for a couple of seconds, before he finally felt himself gag a bit, that's when he knew he should pull back and catch some air. The man groaned out again, the moment the young wizard released his member, taking the liberty to grab his newly freed cock by the base, and slapping it against Draco's lips a couple of times. The salty taste of pre-cum danced around within Draco's mouth, and even more of the bitter taste lingered upon his swollen pouts. His left hand found itself wrapped around the stranger's penis, sliding it up and down it's length, while his right unconsciously palmed at the bulge hidden away within the confines of his black jeans, and once again, the man moaned loudly. The blonde's brow's furrowed in frustration.

"Shush it, you're going to get us caught!" Draco spat, "...knitwit..." he mumbled under his breath, and the stranger looked down at him, a grin on his face, snatching the boy's chin between his index and thumb, forcing his head to tilt back and look up at him. Now that Draco got a good look at him, and was sobering up a bit - the man wasn't really that all attractive. He wasn't a troll, but he wasn't someone he'd pursue in his everyday life, while sober. He was average, he'd say... average. As if Draco Malfoy would ever settle for that! ... But he no longer had much of a choice nowadays. Again, this didn't matter anyway - just as long as he got paid.

"I ain't payin' you to speak." The man spoke with slurred words, giving Draco's head a small shake, and the blonde just sneered. Cold, grey eyes stared up at the stranger's visage, and suddenly a sick and disgusting feeling grew at the pit of his stomach. The words resonated within his brain, and he almost felt himself getting dizzy. It was either one of those 'sudden realization' moments again, or the alcohol was probably still effecting his body. He couldn't tell, but at the moment, he wanted nothing but to finish this shit off, get his money, and go on with his fucking life, as if this night had never happened. Draco had grown to be quite the expert at pretending that everything was alright. Finally coming back to his senses, he pulled his face away from the male's grip, and looked back down, continuing his ministrations, a little less enthusiastic this time around, and more as if it were some sort of awful chore that he wanted to accomplish quickly and get rewarded. It didn't take the man much time to get back to his moaning; sounds that now made Draco cringe, with every single sigh that escaped the stranger's mouth. How long was it going to take this guy to cum? Hopefully not much longer.

The young wizard swallowed and ran his tongue against his teeth, in failed attempts to get the disgusting taste of pre-cum out of his mouth. His stomach knotted and churned with every stroke, and the touch of the man's hands against the back of his head, urging him to push forward and suck him off once more, had made Draco's face contort into a look of disgust, just the thought of having his cock inside of his mouth again was making him want to vomit. It wasn't even in there yet and he was already gagging and closing his eyes in order to control himself.

He had to do it, this wasn't anything new. Take a deep breath, and just pretend he's someone else...

Someone else...

"Oh! It seems like this spot's occupied." Came the voice of a woman, from the left of them, followed by a giggle and the obnoxious laughter of a drunken couple that had found themselves wandering into the dark and damp alleyway of the bar. Draco's heart sank to the bottom of his foot, finding himself quickly ripping his hand away from the stranger's penis, and turning his face away from the couple. They had been caught, and what would happen if they knew the identity of who they were currently witnessing in such a humiliating act? His heart raced within his chest, and his breath hitched, as he found himself quickly scrambling to his feet and disappearing back into the bar, leaving the man behind; confused and probably extremely angered. Probably...? Obviously.

"Oi! Come back here you little shit!" The man yelled at him, once he managed to put his manhood away and scurry his way back into the bar, behind the blonde. The young wizard continued walking, towards the table he was sitting at before, snatching his blazer from behind the seat, and simply throwing it over his shoulders. That's it, he couldn't stay here - he wanted out. This made the sick feeling in his stomach even stronger. It was all a waste of fucking time. He had done all of that, shamed himself, and nearly got caught... and here he was - leaving empty handed and leaving without fixing a single fucking thing. That's it, he couldn't ever show his face around here anymore. This bar was off the list.

Draco needed a long, hot bath; he needed to scrub the filth and the whore off of his body. The smell that lingered upon his flesh. It had to be all washed off until there was nothing left. Never in his fucking life did he imagine himself to be in such position. He had to go home... home. Not exactly his home; Astoria's home. She had been the only friend that stood by him, the day that he lost everything. And if it wasn't for her, he'd be homeless at this very moment. Funny how one finds out who your true friends are, the moment you really need them. Even Pansy turned her back on him. Pansy, the girl who nearly worshiped the ground he walked upon. Good riddance! He didn't need any friends. At least not friends like those.

The boy bit at his bottom lip, taking a glance behind him to make sure that he wasn't being followed by the man that he had left high and dry. Luckily the bar was full tonight, and it was an easy escape. The sound of his boots echoed through the silence of the empty street, with every step he took. He sneered once again, as he swallowed, that taste still lingering inside of his mouth. Draco spat to the side, and cleared his throat, wiping his lips upon the sleeve of his shirt. Thank goodness he was going home, and soon he'd be rid of the taste. Going home... it wasn't like he didn't want to, but he knew she'd ask him about his day... ask him what had he been up to? And of course, he had to sit there and feed her a few lies, all with a cocky little smirk upon his face. Her sympathy was the last thing he fucking needed. It was nice of her to help, but he didn't feel the need to let her in on his business. It was none of her concern. He'd just tell her, "I applied for some jobs..."

As always, but he knew that was to no avail. He had tried to apply to a few things after losing his status, but none of them worked out. No one was interested in hiring a former Death Eater at their place of business. He'd be surprised if he ever tried again and anybody did say yes. Hell, he'd be surprised if anyone even bothered to offer him a job! Draco Malfoy? The spiteful, arrogant, and narcissistic asshole? Too many people would have a field day with his newly gained status in the wizarding world. Let alone... if someone ever found out about his occasional prostitution. The boy shook his head at the thought, fishing a fag from his blazer's pocket, and placing it loosely between his lips, as he searched for the lighter. No one could ever find out. No one could. He mentally recited, finally finding the zippo, and flipping it open to light his cigarette. Closing his eyes, he took a long drag, allowing the minty taste to wash over the bitterness that had been bothering him this whole time. Draco reveled in the taste, before sighing, and allowing the puff of smoke to escape from the corner of his mouth.

Lucius had been executed and Narcissa had died later on due to sickness. The mansion was lost, and their valuable items were sold out. He was sure people knew about that. Word had a way of spreading like wildfire. The great fall of the Malfoy Empire. He was sure people were having too much fun gossiping about that. But, what happened to their son? Their beloved, only son? As far as people knew, there was barely any word of him. Probably the occasional bullshit about him applying for jobs and getting declined... probably the occasional people telling others that they had slept with him for money, but who was going to believe that? Prideful Draco, sleep with people for money? Ha! They all knew that he rather catch the black plague before doing such a thing. And such thoughts were good for his image. No one would ever believe that he was stuck in such a tight spot. Draco Malfoy was doing alright. Not perfect, but alright. And that was better than them thinking otherwise.

* * *

He had been walking for a while now, lost within his own mind, thinking about the things that had happened to him on this faithful night. Draco didn't even notice that he had passed Astoria's place by a block. His brows furrowed once he noticed, and he sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes and turning on his heels, heading back to the small, red-bricked townhouse with the fancy windows. Grey eyes scanned the small building once he stood before it, all the way to the second floor. The lights were off, so he was guessing that the girl had fallen asleep, which was a good thing at the moment. He didn't have to explain the fact that he was coming back so late, at least not from the top of his head. If she'd ask in the morning, he'd make sure to have a good lie to tell her. Once inside, he climbed the stairs, and commenced to unlocking the door.

He attempted to do this as quietly as he possibly could, he didn't want to wake her up. The boy popped his head in first, scanning the perimeter of the room, dark and empty. Nothing but furniture, and no Greengrass in sight. A sigh dribbled past his lips, as he finally entered the apartment, locking the door behind him. Draco didn't hesitate much after that, quickly making his way to the bathroom and stripping himself off all his clothing. He turned the water on, not too hot and not too cold, just somewhere in the middle, and he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror for a few seconds, running his fingers through his golden locks, shoving them away from his face, only to have them fall forward again. He wasn't looking as great as he usually did, his skin seemed paler than usual, he looked thinner, and dark shadows at the bottom of his eyes from the many restless nights, indicated that as much as he liked to pretend, the truth was always staring him in the face, and it'd be hard to hide from those who knew him.

Looking down at the sink, he brought his bottom lip up, between his teeth, and gave his head a small wag, before finally deciding to hop in the shower. It felt as if he had been in there for hours, but it had only been minutes. He blamed his mind once again, it had drifted off into far away places within his skull, as he attempted to wash away the filth upon his flesh, and the taste upon his tongue, but no matter how much he'd scrub, it felt as if it never left, and it was true. It never truly left completely. His shell was clean, but the inside was still as disgusting as it was before. Something that he had to just learn to live with. He made the choices, no one forced him into doing it... even though he somewhat blamed his parents, specifically his mother. He'd be alright if she was still around, but these thoughts were all just a waste of time. She wasn't coming back, and what was done, was done. That's it.

His body collapsed forward onto his mattress, face burying itself into his pillow, as a deep sigh escaped from his mouth. It was time to sleep... sleep. He didn't know the meaning of it nowadays. If he slept for more than an hour, without any nightmares interrupting his slumber, it would be a miracle. And once his mind was clear enough to allow his body to fall asleep, he did, but it wasn't peaceful. Throughout the night his body twitched and jerked upon his mattress. Sweat beads decorated his hairline and dripped down to the tip of his nose. Mumbled words bled past his pouts, and his brows furrowed, with every hitch of his breath. The Death Eaters, Voldemort, the night Dumbledore was murdered. The fear that he felt during the war times, afraid that he'd fail, afraid that he'd let his parents down. The many unspeakable things he had done while being a Death Eater himself.

The day that Potter nearly killed him...

He could feel the pain rushing through his body, and the cold hands of death crushing at his chest, as his life poured out freely from the wounds that Potter had inflicted. If it weren't for Snape, he wouldn't be here right now. And then, this is where the dream begins to quicken, flash by like picture frames before his eyes. The Room of Requirement, how he tried his best to save his friends. Not hard enough, Crabbe had been swallowed by the flames.

Potter saved him...

Discovering his mother's cold, dead body sitting upon the armchair in the study, and that's when his eyes shot open. His body jolted up, upon his bed, sucking in a sharp breath, as grey hues wildly searched around the room. He was safe. Just a nightmare. It was all over. Draco took in a deep breath, and collapsed back onto the soft surface, closing his eyes and running slender digits through his damp hair. Once he had gained his composure, his head turned to the right, and eyes focused upon the clock tick-tocking upon the night table beside his bed; it was seven in the morning, on a Monday, he assumed. That meant that if he woke up now, he'd be able to grab some of whatever Astoria had cooked for breakfast, and avoid any long conversations, since she'd be too busy trying to get ready as fast as possible to get herself to work. The young wizard honestly didn't know how the woman could do it. How could she manage doing everything herself without someone else doing it for her? She grew up with the same comforts as he did, how was it that she learned to adjust, but he hadn't? The boy shrugged the idea off and finally found himself pushing himself up from the bed, and stretching, cracking a few bones in the process, before lazily dragging himself out of his room, past the living room and into the kitchen.

His posture straightened the moment he caught a glimpse of Greengrass standing at the kitchen counter, sipping on a cup of tea. She greeted him with a quick smile, and a, "Someone's up early today," in which he replied to with a nod of his head and one of his trademark smirks, as he made his way towards her, taking a seat upon one of the chairs across her. Grey hues glanced at the plate on the table; eggs and bacon.

"I didn't make much because I didn't think you'd be waking up. You can have this if you want, I wasn't going to eat it anyways. I have to get going in a little. Busy day. You know how that goes. Muggles always getting caught in trouble." She spoke, following it with a sigh and a roll of her eyes. Draco just nodded, barely paying much attention to what she had to say, as he ate his food and flipped through the Daily Prophet.

"At least things haven't been too hectic lately. Potter's been doing a good job at the head Auror thing, surprisingly. But of course, right? It's Potter. The saviour." She chuckled and rolled her eyes once more. The only reaction Draco had given to her conversation was the sneer that had appeared on his face the moment Potter and muggles were mentioned. Potter playing saviour. As always. That was nothing new. Especially not ever since he became mister head Auror. He was always a level above Draco, always, and that irked the boy greatly to know that stupid Saint Potter was doing so much better than he was nowadays. As if he needed anymore fucking attention. As if Draco needed to see anymore of Potter's fucking face.

Sure, he had saved him more than once in his life, and if it weren't for him, he would've probably burned along with Crabbe that night at the Room of Requirement, but that didn't mean that all of a sudden Draco was supposed to be all buddy buddy with him. He was still Harry Potter - and that meant that Draco still didn't like him.

"Anyways, any luck finding anything last night? I sure hope so, it seems like you were out all night. It was nine by the time I fell asleep and you still weren't here."

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I tried a few places. No luck. I suppose I'll just try again today, seems like there's a lot of places looking to hire." He pointed at the jobs section in the newspaper. "I'm awake early enough, might as well do something other than sleep..." He shrugged, knowing damn well that there was no use in even trying any of these. They'd all say no, and he'd be in the same place he's at now. Draco had lost any hope by now, he'd be stuck as a prostitute for the rest of his fucking life. Great.

"You know..." came Astoria's voice again as she put down her her cup. "You should try to apply at the Ministry. Nothing big, but a small position." Apply for a job at the Ministry? Was Greengrass out of her mind? If they denied him around these parts, they'd definitely deny him at the Ministry.

"There's a secretary position..." a secretary position? Definitely out of her mind.

"In The Department of Magical Law Enforcement . Potter's in need of one." What?! Astoria was clearly, extremely out of her fucking mind. She was bonkers! Draco, working as Potter's secretary? He rather be clubbed to death by a fucking mountain troll. The blonde nearly spit out his food in disbelief. What had even possessed her to suggest such a thing to him? His eyes widened, as he turned to face the woman, finally coming out of the shock, enough to bark something at her, for her obviously idiotic attempt to help him, but there was no one there. She was smart enough to apparate before Draco had anything to say about anything. That must've been a joke, it had to be a fucking joke. That's it, Astoria was pulling his leg.

"Me? Work as Potter's secretary?" He chuckled, "not in a million years."

The thought itself was completely ridiculous. Besides, it's not like Potter would hire him anyways. He'd see his name, laugh at it and throw it to the side with the rest of his paper work. "Potter's secretary..." he recited again, his words adorned with a bit of laughter, "as if..."

* * *

He had applied for a few jobs so far today, all of them giving him the good ol' 'don't call us, we'll call you' bullshit, and now he found himself standing before the Ministry of Magic ready to pick up the application and finish it back home. Astoria's suggestion had been pounding at the back of his head for the entire day. But he wouldn't, would he? He couldn't. He wasn't! No, he wasn't desperate enough to humiliate himself in such ways. Draco blinked and rolled his lips together, looking down to his feet, before clenching his jaw at the thought. Obviously, he was desperate enough to humiliate himself in such ways; and he wasn't even thinking about the fact that he was about to apply to be Potter's secretary. The things that he'd done couldn't possibly compare to what he was about to do. As much as he despised fucking admitting it, being Potter's secretary would sure beat having to suck cock for a living.

He was sure this was going to be just a waste of his time, a fucking mistake, and that he was surely setting himself up to look like a fucking fool. He wouldn't hire him. Potter wouldn't want him anywhere near him, and if he did happen to accept him - it had to be because of some sick joke. A prank, something to exact some sort of revenge against all that he'd done to him and his stupid, loser friends. Then he'd drop him, and watch him crash and burn.

Well, there was no way Draco was going to beg for the job.

Any regrets were too late now, he thought to himself now back within the confines of Astoria's home as he prepared the owl to send out the parcel. Draco Malfoy; voluntarily applying to be Potter's secretary.

This had to be a fucking nightmare...


End file.
